Marissa
Rocky heads back to LA the following morning.
Both of my kids sleep past eight, which feels simultaneously thrilling and worrisome.
Levi seems especially out of sorts when he finally wakes up.
He refuses to eat the chocolate-chip pancakes that have been sitting in front of him for nearly ten minutes, then cries when he takes a bite and discovers they’re cold.
I reassure myself that he’s just exhausted from the travel.
But things don’t improve by the following day.
He’s overly emotional, dissolving into tears over every little thing.
I shoot off a worried text to his therapist, who reminds me that post-vacation letdown is a struggle for kids on the spectrum and suggests that I help him process it by asking questions about the trip.
He’s not interested in talking, though; he’s verbally shut down in the way he always does when overstimulated.
I consider canceling our evening plans—Shelby had invited me to a midweek family dinner, and when my kids came home unexpectedly, she extended the invite.
Between the mountain of post-trip laundry that awaits and my increased sense of helplessness at Levi’s plummeting mood, I’m sort of relieved to have an excuse to get out of the house.
Plus, Isla lit up when I told her that we were going to visit Jesse and that we’d be dining with a three-year-old. She’s always adored younger children.
I do my best to distract the kids by spending the second half of the day outside.
Levi refuses to go out to the water, opting instead to sit on a chair in the shade.
His attention is fixed on a pair of Matchbox cars, which he rolls over the arm of the chair while muttering to himself.
He’s happy, at least for the time being, so I let him be.
When I get back inside and check my phone, I see I have three missed calls from Pooja. I call her back and she picks up on the first ring.
“Kegan and I just spoke to Netflix,” she says as a greeting. “They’re thrilled to have you attached and plan to green-light the project.”
“Pooja, that’s great!” It takes a beat for her tone to register. “It is great, right?”
She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s great. They are really excited about the adaptation. But they have contingencies.”
“Like what?”
“Like they are not on board with having Lina Romano direct.”
“Oh.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “Well, I’m sure you have another great option in mind.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. Netflix knows who they want.” There’s something off about her tone. Something that lets me know I won’t like what’s coming. “Not only is he their top pick, but their offer is dependent upon him accepting.”
Dread is starting to creep into my pores. I don’t like where this is headed.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Who is it?”
“I need you to know that I’m fighting it,” Pooja reassures me. “We have a meeting with the studio head this afternoon and I’m going to give them hell. But if they won’t bend—” She pauses. “I just don’t want to give up on this project, you know?”
“Pooja. Tell me who they want for director.”
But I already know. I’ve known since she uttered the word “him.”
“It’s Rocky.”
Unlike Pooja, my ex does not answer on the first ring. I’m just about to hang up when FaceTime connects us, and his bare torso fills my camera screen. He’s in an unfamiliar bed, and based on the rose-colored sheets, it’s undoubtedly a woman’s.
“Hey,” he says lazily. “What’s up, Rissa?”
“Do not call me Rissa,” I say, already losing patience. “And I think you know exactly what’s up.”
The corner of Rocky’s smirk droops and he straightens against the headboard. “Is everything okay?”
“Who is it?” a woman’s voice asks in the background.
“My ex-wife,” Rocky tells her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt while you’re with your fiancée,” I say.
Rocky’s gaze shifts guiltily to the side. I roll my eyes in exasperation, my suspicions confirmed.
“Seriously? You’re already in bed with another woman?”
“You’re engaged?” the voice in the background shrieks.
With a low growl of frustration, Rocky rises from the bed. There’s a rustle of muffled noise and then his face fills the screen again. This time, he’s leaning against a tiled bathroom wall.
“Are the kids okay?” he asks, and for a second, I almost appreciate his concern for their welfare. Maybe the vacation together was what everyone needed after all.
“The kids are fine,” I say quickly. “I’m calling about the movie.”
Rocky’s brow furrows, his expression uncomprehending. “Which movie is that?”
“My movie,” I say emphatically. “The one Pooja just pitched to Netflix? The one they’re insisting you direct?”
“Oh, yeah!” The confusion on Rocky’s face clears. “Peter’s Portfolio, right? And what do you mean your movie?”
“The Felix Files,” I correct him through gritted teeth. “Seriously, do you even read what people pitch to you before accepting?”
Rocky shrugs.
“Anyway,” I press on, “it’s mine because I was the first to sign on to it. I’m starring as the mom.”
Rocky’s face brightens. “Rissa, that’s great! Look at you, getting back in the game!”
My skin bristles at the condescending undertone of his statement. I am only “out of the game” because I’ve been taking care of his children for the past decade. Minor detail, of course.
“This is perfect,” he continues, totally oblivious to my annoyance. “We can work together again!”
“We are not working together,” I say emphatically. “This is my project and that means you need to recuse yourself.”
Rocky has the audacity to look wounded.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit shortsighted?” he asks. “Think of how convenient it will be to work together. We can have the kids nearby. It’ll be a real family affair. PR will love this.”
“Rocky.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. He’s not wrong about the potential PR spin. Or the convenience. But that is so not the point.
He pauses before going in for the kill. “Maybe this is exactly what was meant to happen. You and me, back on the same team. Maybe once we’re working together, you’ll reconsider my offer. We belong together, Rissa. We could be a family again.”
“You know,” I say, “that would sound a lot more sincere if you weren’t in bed with your mistress.”
Rocky pouts.
“Speaking of which,” I continue, “what is going on with Rayna? Are you still planning on going through with this marriage?”
Rocky nods glumly. “I can’t exactly back out now, with all this press coverage. The paparazzi would rip me to shreds.”
I roll my eyes. Of course his public image is what he’s worried about. I decide to shift my strategy and match his perspective.
“If the paparazzi are what you’re worried about, I don’t think doing a movie with your ex-wife is the way to go. Imagine the headlines. The press would have a field day with the invented love triangle.”
Rocky’s eyes light up and I realize I’ve played this all wrong. The idea of headline-grabbing drama is only making this more enticing for him.
“Please,” I say, the fight leaving my body. “Please step away from this project.”
The light in Rocky’s eyes dims. “I don’t know, Marissa. I’ll think about it.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I say. “I just … I need something that’s just for me, you know?”
Rocky nods. “I get that. Let me look over the contract and we can discuss it again in a few days. How does that sound?”
It sounds like it’s not a yes. But right now, it’s the best I can do.